


Dod Kalm

by leiascully



Series: The FBI's Most Unwanted [47]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Aging, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once or twice she had contemplated growing old with Mulder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dod Kalm

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: 2.19 "Dod Kalm"  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

She watched him grow older almost before her eyes, their lives put on fast forward by whatever mysterious force had overtaken the _Ardent_. Whether the heavy salt had come from beyond the world she knew or whether it had been created, some question whose answer had struck its askers dumb, its effects could not be denied. Their bodies had been contaminated, their own fluids slowly curing them, as if she and Mulder were specimens preserved in brine.

Once or twice she had contemplated growing old with Mulder. Her say in the matter had been taken away from her, but she couldn't regret the choices she'd made. There were opportunities she mourned - she had never been married, she had never been a mother, she had hoped one day to find a way to commemorate her father - but she had lived a good life. She had made an impact in the world. She had known from the first day that to devote her life to the FBI was potentially to sacrifice it for her principles. She too had but one life to give for her country, and for better or for worse, it would not be in uniform.

They were dying cold and alone, thousands of miles from the world she knew. At least she was conscious this time of the moments being stolen from her. That was more than she could say for her last near-death experience. From the day she had walked into the basement, it had been inevitable that she would end up in the files Mulder kept there. At least they were side by side. At least it would just be a weary slide into eternal sleep: there would be no haunted face to print in the paper, no one who would triumph in the moment of their death or make any mark on their corpses. Their autopsy reports would rest in peace together between layers of manila, or their salt-crusted remains would float on hand in hand until time or the sea wore them away.

She could never regret knowing Mulder.

She wrote as much in her diary, under his bleary watchful eye, knowing he would never read it. A personal note wedged between her scientific observations, a human touch in an irrational world. If her papers were published, they would omit the page she had addressed to him. It was outside the parameters of relevance. And yet, as her time ran down, salt through an hourglass, she spared precious minutes and ink to record the things she wanted to say: thank you, it was an honor, I could not have chosen any partner better than you. You and I, in the time we spent together, began great works; together, we might have completed them and brought clarity to an obfusc world.

She reached for Mulder's hand and anchored herself. She did not fear the sea.


End file.
